


Drowse

by demonessryu



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Developing Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mention of switching, Not Britpicked, Pining, Secret Relationship, Timeline What Timeline, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 07:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20888021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu
Summary: Roger was a lot of things to Brian: band mate, friend, and maybe-boyfriend. The uncertainty wasn’t helped when Roger started to pull away—not a rare occasion but still painful nevertheless. But, maybe all Brian needed was to have a little faith in him.





	Drowse

**Author's Note:**

> Such original title! It's never been used ever in this fandom especially! 
> 
> Timeline is a bit messed up because I thought A Day at the Races was recorded and released after Roger got together with Dom, then when I edited this I checked the dates and wept. For the sake of my sanity because I don’t want to rewrite this whole fic, let’s assume Roger got serious with Dom very, _very_ quickly.

The most difficult thing about being in a relationship with Roger Taylor, Brian thought, was that it was impossible to tell _whether _they were in a relationship at all. It might have begun in the jazz club room all those years ago when Brian found a talented drummer, a new friend, and a troubled bully in one impossibly attractive young man he couldn’t keep away from. It was also possible that it had begun one night a couple of months later when Roger ferociously kissed him in the middle of a heated argument in their band van, only to act as if nothing had happened a few seconds later. It was _equally_ likely that it had started months after that kiss when Roger invited Brian for a drink at a pub, but they couldn’t last two hours before they ended on an old sofa back in Roger’s flat with him breathlessly begging Roger to quit being a gentleman and take him to bed _now please_—a request that Roger eventually agreed to after repeatedly insisting that this wasn’t his usual method of seduction. As for their potential break-ups, there were too many to count. Roger’s anger flared so hotly and lengthily, sometimes at the smallest or no provocation, that at least once a month Brian wondered whether he had lost him.

But, some eight years later, Roger still deemed Brian worthy of his time and Brian survived their numerous arguments gone wrong. They still performed together, now in front of a bigger audience than when they had first started. They still spent time together, discussing and laughing at things they couldn’t with anyone else since in some ways they were inexplicably similar. They still fought because they were too different to last too long without any disagreement. And they still slept together on occasions when the incomprehensible pull between the two of them was impossible to ignore.

Roger was Brian’s band mate–that was obvious. He was also his friend, which was less obvious but equally true. He was an occasional enemy, much to Brian’s chagrin. But, was he Brian’s boyfriend? That was a lot more difficult to determine. Beside the unclear beginning(s) and ending(s) of their possible relationship, there was also the matter of their official and unofficial partners. Roger had hardly been single since they had first got to know each other and, during tours away from home, he wasn’t a stranger to taking eager fans to his hotel rooms. Brian himself was far from a hermit, having the occasional girlfriends, flings, and, well, mistresses. Whenever he and Roger got together, it was always a surprise, at least to Brian. Spending a night with Roger could end with them getting completely sloshed and passing out together, playing scrabble, trying out a few unfinished songs, or laying in bed with kiss-bruised lips and pleasant aches in various sticky body parts.

While random nights of homosexuality could be explained away as a result of boredom or curiosity, it was much more difficult to dismiss how sweet Roger could be to him afterwards. Brian cherished those slow mornings of sleepy kisses and warm cuddles, of falling asleep again in each other arms, of having late breakfast while idly chatting about whatever came to their minds, of reluctantly parting with lingering kisses. This sweetness wasn’t just after sex, either. Sometimes Roger would take him to dinners or invite him over for nothing more than a chat or a short trip to somewhere no one would recognize them, and they would steal kisses and hold hands and Roger would look at him with such softness and affection than Brian knew he returned in kind. Then, they would inevitably bicker about yet another thing they found they couldn’t agree on and Roger would be upset and only speak to him in snappish comebacks while Brian forgave and tided himself over with memories of pleasanter times they had shared.

Brian loved Roger. Of that he was certain. Whether Roger loved him back was far less certain, however, and therefore over seven years since their first possible beginning, Brian still couldn’t tell whether they had begun at all.

It was frustrating. Brian wanted to clarify it, but he didn’t know how to start this kind of conversation. His other relationships were fairly simple, requiring only acknowledgement of mutual interest and care to begin and loss of attraction and shared discontent to end. He hardly ever did emotional conversations with his partners and would actually rather keep it that way. It was one thing to write and sing about love, but another to really talk about it with someone. Beside, how was he supposed to go about this sort of conversation? How was he supposed to ask Roger whether any of their myriads of private moments meant that they were together or broken up or somewhere in between or not at all? Brian couldn’t even begin to imagine having it without making it awkward for both of them or upsetting Roger, which he really didn’t want to do for reasons of self-preservation.

Brian was a patient man, but it had been too long and there had been no change to their situation. His discontent was making itself known. Freddie, who had one morning caught them in bed together, and John, who was far too observant for his own good sometimes, no longer bought the shrugs he gave as an answer whenever asked about Roger. They were worried, Brian could tell, but there was nothing he could do. His attempts at dropping hints about his uncertainty went ignored (he knew Roger too well to think he hadn’t noticed) and sitting down and talking was largely out of the question. He knew it was stupid to bring Chrissy into this mess, but aside from the fact that he was really rather fond of her, he had (desperately) hoped that seeing his seriousness with her would inspire Roger to clarify what was going on between them. Of course that wasn’t what happened. Of course Roger had Jo _and_ _then_ met Dom. Of course they still fell into bed together whenever the mood strike and opportunity permitted. Of course Roger only nodded and smiled when Brian announced his and Chrissy’s plan to get married.

Brian did love Chrissy, but not in the same deep, unflinching, inexplicable, breathless way he loved Roger. If Roger had asked, Brian would’ve at least seriously considered calling off the wedding, but Roger hadn’t. Brian tried not to be too bitter about that. Then, he started spending less time with Brian. Brian struggled with that for a while, but managed to understand because Roger was a man of many big dreams and great determination. _Then_, he overheard Roger telling Freddie that he wanted to give some space to him and Chrissy whilst taking the opportunity to seduce Dom despite his present girlfriend. It was far more difficult to not be bitter about that then, because he knew Roger saw his yearning to be near him, spend time with him, talk to him, _touch _him in any way he’d allow him, but Roger still chose someone else over him.

Right away, Brian could tell that things were different with Dom. There was seriousness in Roger as he determinedly pursued her that hadn’t been present with his former lovers or even his poor current girlfriend. Perhaps it was his age. Roger now had his eyes on the future, and what a future he could have with Dom. Dom was lovely and offered a safe stable future Brian couldn’t, the same kind of future Chrissy offered and Brian couldn’t sensibly refuse. He liked to think Roger felt for Dom the way Brian felt for Chrissy, but it was just wishful thinking. They never talked about their lovers with each other, only reading between the lines, only seeing heartbreaking sparks in expressive eyes and bright grins when the name was mentioned—at least that was how it was for Brian. Best not speculate. Best not further break his heart. Brian let Roger do as he wished, watched him make expensive phone calls to Dom, waved off his sorry excuses to see her as soon as he could, smiled at his stories of silly conversations they had, shook his head at his attempts to impress. It stung, but Brian learnt to forgive. He had excellent friends who listened even when he didn’t speak and vodka was a miracle cure to all sickness, including a broken heart. He slowly got better, slowly managed to ignore his pain, slowly managed to expect nothing. Then, Roger came around and undid all his hard work with a casual demand.

“Can you help me with a song?” Roger asked in a tone that clearly indicated that he expected no argument.

Brian looked up from a song he was struggling to get out of his head and onto paper. He blinked rapidly, a little confused. “Uh. Yes?”

Roger sat down beside him, easy as anything, their sides touching and, God, how Brian missed him. “I was going to do everything myself, but I obviously can’t. I need you.”

And John, as it turned out, but Brian didn’t mind. All he could think of was Roger needed him—his skill with the guitar, to be precise—and he couldn’t possibly turned him down. He listened to Roger’s direction, his vision of how the song should be, and tried not to argue too much for fear of losing again the attention he had been deprived of. It wasn’t a hard task as the song was frankly fantastic. It was typical of Roger in a way—nostalgic of adolescence like the rest of them weren’t. It was also vaguely autobiographical and startlingly honest, which explained why he had wanted to do it on his own and made Brian realize what a privilege Roger’s demand was actually. Quite unusually, the song slow and melancholic, dreamy in a way Roger’s songs usually weren’t. There was no loud drumming, fast paced rhythm, or exuberant celebration of rock n’ roll. It was quiet, contemplative, and moving, making Brian wondered what had happened in the time Roger decided to put some space between them.

But, Brian didn’t ask, aware of the rarity of insights into Roger’s emotional state. He listened and watched and tried to decipher. It was still Roger, still that young man he met in the jazz club room all those years ago, still the only man he ever loved, still the only one who ever claimed his heart. But, there was a shift, a change that was barely perceptible. There was a maturity that hadn’t been there before. It was Roger, but with better though slightly wearier understanding of the world, quietly pragmatic rather than blindly optimistic. Brian wondered whether this was a mere natural effect of the unstoppable time or Dom’s effect on him, if this was a good change or a bad omen. Whatever it was, he hoped it hadn’t removed his tenuous place in Roger’s life.

_Drowse_ was a great song. Even Freddie approved and didn’t mind at all that he didn’t get to participate in its making, while John was quietly pleased with his contribution. Brian might’ve shared more of their sentiments had he not been summarily dismissed from the studio while Roger recorded the vocal. He understood that the song meant a lot to him that it might expose a vulnerability he always insisted didn’t exist and Freddie and John were his close friends, his confidants the way Brian wasn’t. What they had was complicated and thus kept them somewhat separated. Brian truly understood, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt. That night, Brian learnt there was only so much pain vodka could numb.

He returned to the studio the next day, hung over and defeated. They started recording a different song, which meant that Roger was finished with _Drowse_ and decided not to let Brian have a listen. The sizable pain in Brian’s heart hadn’t even closed when it was torn bigger. Only professionalism kept him from asking for a drink, but he knew from the concerned looks and questions Freddie kept throwing at him that he looked as miserable as he felt. How he managed to get through the day, he didn’t know, but the next thing he knew, it was late afternoon and Freddie was herding everyone out of the studio, leaving him, Roger and John alone. John smiled to him. His presence was a small comfort, an offer for moral support and protection from a potential squabble, but he could never help Brian with the kind of deep pain that love could incite. Still, he returned John’s smile weakly and turned to Roger.

“I’ve finished it, _Drowse_. Wanna have a listen?” Roger asked, his tone a strange mixture of expectation and challenge that somehow made Brian fell for him just a little bit deeper.

Brian hesitated, wondering what had brought on this question, and glanced at John, who was sitting on a chair beside the sofa Brian was occupying. He received a small encouraging nod in reply and, although still not fully reassured, Brian agreed.

Roger fiddled expertly with some buttons. Not long after, a familiar song started, a lazy dreamy tune that had Brian relaxing despite himself. It reminded him of lazy summer days of sharing with Roger cold drinks and hot gazes, big dreams and small kisses. He complied dumbly when Roger motioned for him to sit near the control panel to listen better. He felt a pang of disappointment when Roger went to install himself on the sofa, but resisted from showing it, focusing on the song instead. Brian tapped his knee slowly to the tune, recognizing instantly who was playing which instrument. He smiled listening to the rhythm guitar. Roger’s musical skillset had expanded since they had known each other. Brian was proud of Roger and the musician he had become, and wondered how much better he could be over time. There was no envy or insecurity, only contentment that he had been there to witness the growth and offer (occasionally ill-received) suggestions, accompanied by a yearning hope that he would always be there throughout the progression. Brian started to hum along with the song, losing himself in pleasant daydreams of the rock star Roger could and would become, and only snapped back to attention when a speaking part started near the end. It wasn’t in the draft Roger had given him, so he leaned toward the speaker, listening carefully to the familiar voice. He frowned and turned back to Roger, who was waiting expectantly on the sofa.

“Do you say something at the end?”

Roger’s sunglasses kept Brian from accurately reading him, but he still noticed a twitch of _something_ in his expression. Roger took a deep drag of the remaining half of his cigarette. “Turn the volume up,” he instructed.

Brian glanced at John in confusion, but only received an oddly excited smile in reply. Curiosity piqued, he followed Roger’s instruction and turned the volume up louder and louder and louder until the whisper turned into a mumble turned into spoken words.

No, not words.

Brian froze, heart pounding with disbelief, hope and fear of being wrong. He played the end of the song over and over again until it filled his mind to be echoed to the end of his days and if he had had some sense he would've been concerned about wearing out the tape. But, he hadn’t and he listened to it, alternately hoping he was wrong and praying he was right. Both possibilities gave him a fright, for both had the potential of making his heart break. With Roger there was no such thing as a gentle fall, only a drop at the speed of light that would leave him irreparably shattered. But, with Roger there was also no slow ascend to happiness, just a burst of energy that lifted him up high until he was dying for air but Roger was all he cared to breathe. Knowing all these, knowing the risks, Brian all but pressed his ear to the speaker, fingers tightly clutching the edge of the table.

_Now, who else do I like?_

_Brian May_

When Brian could bring himself to turn around, Roger was watching him quietly. His expression and posture gave away nothing, but Brian saw through him this time. He realized that the sunglasses was a wall, his sprawl an attempt to intimidate, the straight set of his shoulder a hidden nervousness, and the cigarette pack being turned over and over in his hand uncharacteristic insecurity. There was no way, no word to describe the love Brian felt encompassing him now. No material object, no portion of infinity could sufficiently express the sheer depth of adoration and devotion he felt for Roger. Brian’s heart ached with how much love it had to contain. Roger’s guarded expression intimidated, but Brian’s helpless love for him encouraged. Brian took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, not wanting to upset Roger with the wrong action or word. He needed to be calm. He needed to know. He needed Roger.

“Do you really li…”

“_Don’t_ make me say it,” Roger interrupted, quiet but firm, easy to mistake for confidence if not for the way his grip tightened around the cigarette pack in his hand. He scowled at John when he coughed delicately, then turned his attention back to Brian. When he spoke, his voice was neutral but his word was not, “yes.”

Roger hardly reacted when Brian removed his sunglasses and then his crushed pack of cigarette. He still didn’t react when Brian knelt in front of him to look at him better. But, his long eyelashes fluttered and his breath came out a tad harsher when Brian held his hands. Brian grasped for word, mind frantically calculating every possible outcome of a confession. His usual verboseness disappeared in the face of the terrifying chance of losing the one he loved. In the end, he settled for the simple truth.

“Well, good. Because I’ve always loved you.”

It was impossible to tell who came on to whom. The next thing Brian knew, they were kissing and the only thing he could think of was how he had missed Roger’s sweet lips, wicked mouth, soft hair under his hands, strong hold on his arms, quiet sighs, soft skin, lively glints in his eyes whenever they parted for a moment, knowing touches as Roger drew Brian carefully and inexorably closer as if he wasn’t already imprinted on Brian’s soul. Brian’s heart ached in the sweetest way no one else could nor would evoke. He clung to Roger, pouring into their kisses everything he wished to say, every action he wished to do, every fiber of his sorry being. A nagging fear whispered that his sentiments were unwanted, rejected. But, Roger held him fast, an anchor in the tempest in Brian’s mind and Brian was hopeless to resist from believing that Roger loved him back.

“Right. I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

John’s words barely registered as Brian rediscovered the familiarity of the cradle between Roger’s thighs. The sofa was too narrow and too small for them, but Brian didn’t care as he slotted himself close to Roger, his hands wandering up his sides, his lips pressing desperate kisses onto the pale skin of his slender neck. He didn’t dare to leave any mark, but he pressed his open mouth and licked warm skin until Roger writhed and mewled for more. And more Brian gave, pressing Roger further into the sofa as he covered every part of Roger he could reach with worshipful kisses and teasing flickers of his wet tongue. They spoke in sighs and moans and embraces which were a little too tight. Whenever their eyes met, Brian was greeted by warmth and tenderness he thought he would never receive. There were also fear and uncertainty there that Brian completely understood, he truly did. He kissed Roger deeply whenever he saw them, trying to tell him that it would be all right, that he knew all too well how he felt, that he would have Brian by his side no matter what.

They moaned into each other’s mouth as they rocked slowly against each other, savoring every heated second. Clumsy fingers battled with bothersome buttons as their hips rolled onto each other in a poor mimicry of two bodies merging into one, pushing and pulling and meeting halfway, burying deep inside and being stretched impossibly wide. The first to win the struggle, Brian slipped his hand into Roger’s open shirt to caress his torso up to his heaving chest where he lightly ran his thumb over his nipple before bowing his back to close his lips over it. Roger arched his back as a response to a gentle suck and his caressing tongue, moaning his name hungrily, and there was no helping the way Brian bucked his hips to press the hard lines of their cocks more closely together. He pressed his panting mouth over Roger’s flushed neck as he panted, his cock throbbing and straining his trousers at the familiarity and rightness of this moment. Below him Roger didn’t fare much better, moaning his name most enticingly as he impatiently ran his hands over the sensitive length of Brian’s back, brushing fingers over spine as the hands moved lower and lower. Brian gasped when Roger somehow managed to slide his hand down the back of his tight trousers and his pants to draw him ever closer with a demanding squeeze. Brian obeyed, groaning and surging his hips forward as he wished to push into Roger to lose himself in his depth, their legs tangling, hands grasping and caressing, mouths meshing and whispering each other’s name. However, his hips faltered and Brian panted to Roger’s collarbone when a finger strayed down the cleft, seeking, brushing.

They had done that before, though not often, when Brian was the one gasping and writhing and holding on as he was taken apart to be reassembled and held tight afterward. He didn’t prefer it to running his hands and lips over the dips and curves of Roger’s body, relearning his sighs and moans and demands for more of Brian, being lost in the velvety heat of him, but he never turned Roger down when the mood struck. Now, Brian trembled, waiting for Roger’s instruction. He didn’t bring anything to ease the way of Roger’s not-insignificant cock, but he could come up with something or he could grit his teeth if discomfort got overwhelming. Anything. He’d do anything Roger asked as long as he could keep him and Roger would keep him in return. He was tired of being uncertain. He was tired of not belonging. He was tired of having someone else chosen over him. He needed confirmation. He needed to be claimed. He needed Roger to finally choose him. Brian didn’t realize he was begging out loud until Roger ran his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t take you to my place. Dom’s there,” Roger said, his voice hoarse.

Brian buried his face in the crook of Roger’s neck, closing his eyes as he tried no to sob. Of course Roger wouldn’t keep him. After all, what could Brian offer to him beside public disdain and scorn? Dom (and even Jo) was the sensible choice, Brian understood, but how he hated that he couldn’t give what she could. It still wasn’t fair that after years of being uncertain, he couldn’t even have a little of Roger’s time. Brian breathed harshly as Roger removed his hand from his trousers and stroked his back to comfort him. Roger never did this before—there was never any need to when most of Brian’s troubles started with his distance and ended with his attention. The gesture meant the world. Roger knew. He understood. He was helpless to do anything just as Brian. Brian held Roger tightly, ardor cooling, heart aching, love undying. He didn’t want much. He didn’t need the world. He would even give up rock n’ roll life if that was what it took. All he ever wanted was Roger to love. But everything-the _only _thing that he ever wanted he could never seem to have.

“I have a place,” Roger suddenly said. When Brian opened his eyes, he saw his Adam’s apple bobbed. When he looked up to Roger’s eyes, he saw apprehension alongside hope. The hand on Brian’s back pressed close as if he didn’t want him to pull away, before loosening again to the lightest of touch that nevertheless reached deep into Brian’s scarred heart. “No one knows about it. We can go there if you want.”

Brian only waited a beat before leaning up to kiss him deeply, slowly, pouring out everything he couldn’t say (hadn’t said) into it. “Yeah. Let’s go,” he agreed.

It was risky. It was insensible. It wasn’t exactly what Brian wanted. But, Roger kissed his forehead and held his hand until they left the building. But, Roger stopped him before he got into his car, then stared at him for a long time before he shook his head and insisted it was nothing. But, Roger held him tenderly that night and he woke late with stained sheets tangled around them and to a drowsy soft smile that was at once new and familiar. There were things that needed to be straightened out. There were fear and apprehension that needed to be erased. There were still many uncertainties in the future yet. But, Brian was patient. He could wait for the day they didn’t have to hide, the day their kisses and hand holdings were freely done instead of stolen, the day Roger could say back the three words Brian whispered over and over to him in private, the day he finally and fully belonged to the man who had forever owned his heart. That day might still be distant, but Brian didn’t mind waiting as long as Roger was beside him. Someday, one day, the day would come and Brian’s heart wouldn’t be so pained and he could say that he truly had everything he could possibly want.

**Author's Note:**

> Petition for Queen to disclose wth the secret message in Drowse is about. Roger Taylor, explain yourself. 
> 
> It took me half this fic to realize that I’d accidentally written a fic where Roger cheated on Jo with Dom, _then_ cheated on _both_ Jo and Dom with Brian. Oops? Also I had to check Queen in 3-D to find out how to spell Chrissy (at least according to Brian). Double oops?
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) where my fanworks never show up on the proper tag(s).


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